Harry Potter and the Final Confrontation
by SaoirseMC
Summary: will most likely change the name, for I dont know what is happening yet! Roxanne is trapped in the mansion where both Dark Lord and Death Eaters live and Malfoy dwells in Azkaban. & at the end of the year, will Harry be murdered or become a murderer?
1. Prologue

**Quick explanation...**

Since I wrote Harry Potter and the Heir Prophecy before HBP, it was totally different…obviously. But just so as not to complicate, some things that happened in HBP actually happened in my fanfic…No there is no logic, just…don't ask question. Don't try and figure it out, it just _happened._

Things that _have_ happened;

-Bill becoming half a werewolf and marrying Fluer

-Snape joining Voldemort

-Rufus Scrimegeor is Prime Minister

-Tonks and Lupin together (-)

-Dumbledore dying

Things that _haven't _happened;

-Harry dating Ginny, ugh.

-Ron dating Lavender

I'll think of more, this is just the basic. If you have questions or suggestions, e-mail me Willpost chapters soon. Also, this fanfic will be…um, weird. Weirder. Ahem…

I don't believe Snape is evil…

Once again, I don't believe he _truly _died.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Prologue**

The dark, doorless room was unwelcoming and cold, even though the fireplace blared thick flames that licked the marble border. Memories of centuries gone by littered the tiled floors, the navy painted walls and the slanted gray ceiling. Portraits of the long deceased covered up scratched paint or holes and a small square carpet offered the only warmth for feet, though it was bristle and hard. An unlit chandelier hung from the ceiling, baring its metal teeth at the inhabitant. A chest of drawers stood near at the opposite end, full of dusty clothes owned by women who now snored in the portraits. Atop the chest sat various items, including a hairbrush, a rusty lock and a pencil. One item certainly caught the eye as it stood against the wall and the glitter danced with the flames. The black mask was old and bent but still a work of art. It covered the eyes and the bridge of the nose and two horns spiraled up above the head, meeting as an arch at the top.

A mobile of parrots rotated in front of a small window. The wooden birds were perched on gold hoops but one was missing, leaving its five brothers to twirl endlessly. The window had years of grime in it so it was just about possible to tell whether it was night or day, but didn't allow the inhabitant to gaze at the acre outside her room. The field was empty, not showing one bit of life except for the few plants and saplings, but it would have still been a nice sight for the girl who sat on the bed. The bed was quite large with four purple satin pillows and a thick goose-feather duvet. The sheet underneath was rough and itchy, so sleeping was uncomfortable. But only the portraits slept for more than five hours at a time. Lack of sleep showed clearly underneath the girl's eyes, representing itself as purple marks, extenuating her high cheekbones. Her skin had not seen the light of day for three weeks so the few freckles that had adorned it were disappearing. Black hair hung in a limp ponytail, as if given up all hope on a wash. It was greasy so it looked constantly wet and added years of age on the bearer.

The girl was in the same position she had been in for the past two hours. Sat on the edge of her bed, staring into the flames with her shoulder hunched and her back bent. A pillow was being pressed against her chest by both her arms in a bear-like clutch. She wore a plain gray dress that may have been white a few months ago. It reached her ankles where girly frills, ripped and torn, were sown on. The sleeves were clearly too long and covered her pale hands, also adorned with frills that looked like that had been chewed.

What was _not _visible, however, was the dinner knife held in her right hand behind the maroon pillow. Though it was made of stainless steel and blunt, she held it like someone would a sword, or a wand. And still she stared at the fire, as if waiting for something to come out of it…

In another room, miles and miles away from the girl with her knife, sat another person about her age, and like her, looked far older. Though slim, nearly on the border of underweight, the boy looked like he had fought in a war and survived. His hair was black and messy, and stayed just as unkempt even as he pulled a t-shirt over his head and ran his hand through his hair. On his cheek was a bruise that looked like it had once been big and painful, but it was fading now and just underneath his eye was a small scar that would eventually disappear as well. The room he dwelled in had indeed changed over the past few years, and yet stayed the same. The gray walls had been painted a soft tan and the windows had been scrubbed but still they did not leave in enough light to give the room a cheery effect. The walls seemed reluctant to let go of their precious memories of the former owners and even the cleaning or new items to spruce it up could not persuade them to let go and move on. The whole house was like this, apart from the kitchen, which made anyone happy with the smell of Mrs Weasley's delicious dinners and scrumptious puddings wafting about. Every other room had memories in it that didn't even have anything to do with the house.

Harry Potter's dark eyebrows furrowed as he pulled on a pair of socks, his jade green eyes staring almost angrily at his feet. Three weeks had gone by since the departure from Hogwarts and everyday had been mental anguish. Everyday he blamed himself for the kidnapping of Roxanne and everyday he swore he would find her, but everyday he was not allowed out and everyday he felt hope creeping away, leaving him in a pit of despair and darkness. What had made it worse was when he had arrived at Number Twelve Gimmauld Place yesterday, he had been told off for leaving Roxanne at King's Cross, thus leaving her vulnerable. What Moody had said still echoed through his head. _'I thought you'd have more sense than leaving her, Potter!_' And as Harry thought back, he wondered why he hadn't have. Roxanne had said she'd be ok on her own and the Dursley's had kept pestering him…

But he couldn't blame them. He'd tried that way out before and he had realized it wasn't their fault. How were they to know Roxanne was wanted by Voldemort? The news of Roxanne's disappearance had not reached the wizarding world until a week later for two reasons. The first was that only muggles had seen her been apparated out of King's Cross and even when they reported it the police thought they were mad. The second reason was that Roxanne's aunty and uncle never came for Roxanne, and so never reported her missing. Harry had only found out when he had arrived that Aurors had gone into the Winters' house and found Miranda Winters locked in a bathroom while Allen Winters lay dead in the kitchen. After some serious investigating, they found out Mrs Winters had murdered her husband using the Unforgivable Curse, locked herself in the bathroom and flushed her wand down the toilet. She was spending time in Azkaban and is still confused about the whole ordeal. The Order of the Phoenix, however, knew better. When Miranda had gone out to collect Roxanne on her own, she had evidently been put under the Imperius curse and had murdered her husband. Allen was a dangerous man to his brother and Voldemort and only his wife ever came into the house, so she was the perfect tool.

Harry dreaded to think how Roxanne would take this, but what he feared more was what she was doing at this precise moment. She was alive; he knew that much, but was she safe? At least Malfoy was locked away. If he were out… well lets just say Harry had the urge to smash something whenever he thought about what Malfoy may do to Roxanne. He was heavily guarded though. The Ministry knew about the prophecy that foretold Roxanne and Malfoy were to wed and become heirs so they were doing everything in their power to prevent it. Draco Malfoy was guarded by much more than dementors and bars.

But still this did not ease Harry's restless sleep. Already he had endangered all of his friends and finally one had been captured and still remained so. Hermione was trying to forget her time in the mansion's dungeons and was practicing being a Mage. Her ability to use magic without a wand didn't seem to want to show itself, which put her in a stressful mood quite often. Her and Ron were also not talking as often as Harry had expected them to, but secretly, he liked this. He found it awkward even when they just hugged and pecked each other on the cheek goodnight. He didn't understand why, but another thing he would not say was that he doubted they would stay together. From what Tonks had said, Ron loved the attention he received in Diagon Alley when they had gone there, and was surrounded by girls of all ages. Harry doubted Ron's loyalty to Hermione, especially since now she had something better than he did, that wasn't just her brains. Ron didn't like the fact that Hermione was now the smartest in their year _and _a Mage; he had said this to Harry. It put him down. He wanted a girlfriend who wasn't as good as him, so she would look up to Ron and not the other way round. Harry hadn't replied with encouragement. Though he knew it was mean, he thought they'd be better going their separate ways. They were two very different people and even as a couple they argued and disagreed on mostly everything. For instance, as Harry opened his door and peered out, Ron was complaining about a book that Hermione had magicked to fly about the room but had only flung itself into Ron's stomach, winding him and knocking him back into his armchair.

"It's not my fault, Ron. I'm trying to get this right as best as a I can and you sitting there criticizing me isn't helping!"

"I'm not criticizing, I'm giving you points-"

"But you don't know what you're giving points _on_, because you're not a –"

"-Mage, yeah yeah I know," grumbled Ron, and without another word he stomped past Harry's door and down the stairs.

Hermione appeared out of the doorway and looked at Harry with an exasperated expression on her face. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun (most likely because she had singed some of it off two days ago) and her brown eyes glared at Ron's back.

"Why is he being so immature about this, Harry?" she asked.

Harry emerged, rather reluctantly, and shrugged; though he knew the answer. She scowled and went back into the room, closing the door behind her. Downstairs, Ron joined the large majority of his family around the kitchen table. Ginny Weasley was seated next to Fluer Delacour and were deep in conversation about the wedding, which was in two days time. Fluer had grown on Ginny, and they were often seen talking together while doing each other's hair. Every so often Fluer would put Ginny's wavy red hair in some sort of extravagant style while Ginny would do the same to Fluer's silvery blonde hair. Bill sat next to Fluer, talking to his father. His face was etched with deep scars and cuts that had not yet healed, his long red hair was cut short and spiky and his ear remained pierced, all of these giving him quite a sinister appearance. His smile, just like Moody's was lopsided, and showed more teeth than usual as he grinned at Harry, who smiled back. Mrs Weasley was fussing over Tonks, who had tripped over Ebony, who had been chasing Ivory, who had been scared off by Crookshanks. Along with Kreachers mutterings of mudbloods and blood traitors and the wireless singing a pop tune, the kitchen was very much alive and a nice place to be to get away from the rest of the macabre house.


	2. Small Accidents

**Chapter 1**

**Small Accidents**

Harry sat next to Ron, who was very busy staring at Fluer.

"You'all right, Ron?" asked Harry, helping himself to a waffle.

Ron tore his gaze away from Fluer, who was miming the music, and looked at Harry.

"Yeah I'm ok, y'know. Hermione's just been really bugging me lately."

"At least you know where your girlfriend is though," said Harry, meaning it to sound like a joke but it came out sarcastic and humourless. How could he joke about Roxanne's disappearance? He missed her so much…it was nothing to joke about.

Ron didn't reply. He had given up on trying to cheer Harry up, because even he felt down. Roxanne was his friend too. Her not being here had affected everyone. Not only because they were missing a friend, but also because it meant Voldemort had something else he wanted. If the prophecy were to come true it would make him even more immortal. Harry and the Order had decided he didn't want a heir for when he died, for it was clear Voldemort did not think he was going to die, but he wanted people he could _really _trust. Two people he could give special powers to so he had help, and then just in case he did die, his control and power would carry on. They had even considered maybe he would steal Malfoy's body, as it was possible. Perhaps when Malfoy was eligible he would destroy his soul and inhabit his body like it was just a shell. Harry had decided anything was possible, especially since he had discovered about horcruxes. A pang of guilt hit his chest as he thought of Dumbledore's pointless death.

"Harry, do you think Ginny looks better with 'er 'air up or down?" asked Fluer, interrupting Harry's thinking. He glanced over while Fluer placed Ginny's hair on top of her head, and then let it fall back down again.

"Er…up," he said, a baffled expression on his face. Ginny grinned at him and turned back to Fluer to discuss how her hair should be.

"Why ask me about hair? I can't even control my own," Harry muttered to Ron, who laughed.

"Ees Charlie going to make it?" Fluer asked Mrs Weasley. "We have chosen 'im to be ze best man and-"

"Yes, he can make it," Mrs Weasley cut in, forcing a smile. She had not yet grown to like Fluer like Ginny had, but definitely felt warmer towards her since she had shown she truly did love her son.

"He said he'd give me a dragon egg for a wedding gift," said Bill, his voice deeper and harbouring a growl.

"What?" gasped Fluer, turning around quickly.

"He was only joking, it'd be illegal," assured Bill.

Fluer smiled and batted her long eyelashes. "Do not worry me like zat! You know how much I 'ate dragons."

Harry looked away from that side of the kitchen, the talk of dragons reminding him of Roxanne and how she had told him about her ability to communicate with them. Much like his own Parselmouth, she had Dracotongue. He found whenever someone mentioned the name of that ability he shuddered angrily. Typical for Malfoy to have a name meaning dragon, it had probably been purposeful. It seemed it was another thing that gave Harry that horrible feeling that the prophecy was to come true. Roxanne had a special gift with dragons and Draco happened to be Latin for dragon. It wasn't a coincidence.

"You gonna eat that, Harry?" asked Tonks, leaning over.

Harry looked down at his waffle, which he had buttered but not touched.

"Oh, no, you can have it."

Tonks took the plate and went back to talking to Remus. Lupin and Bill had become very good friends, for obvious reasons. It made everyone feel better knowing Bill had someone who knew about being a werewolf and had it worse than him. It had been a full moon more than a week ago, the night everyone was dreading. Bill had decided, against everyone's wish, not to take the potion that prevented him from fully changing like Lupin did, but to find out exactly what he was like during full moons. He had been worse than Lupin had predicted and from what Harry had heard, quite a threat without the potion. He had not been as strong or as vicious but had sprouted short hair, ears and a small muzzle, still more human than wolf. Bill had explained how he felt like he was fighting with another person in his mind. _He_ wanted to stay put and wait for the morning but this other monster in him wanted to run free and attack anyone who came near. Bill had won in the end and no one had been harmed, but at least they knew what he was to be every month. Lupin told him the fact that he had a choice over what he wanted to be was a blessing. Every month Lupin had no control whatsoever, only the potion prevented him from attacking people.

A loud knock came from the door and instantly Sirius' mother started screaming.

"_More filth to enter my pure blood house! Creatures of mud - traitors!_"

"Someone shut her up before I do something I regret," grumbled Bill. Mr Weasley went to the door while Lupin and Tonks went to shut the screaming portrait up.

"_Disgusting half breeds! None worthy to live in MY home!"_

Kingsley entered the kitchen, frowning at the racket from upstairs. He nodded to everyone in the kitchen and then followed Mr Weasley and Bill into another room.

"You leave Mistress alone!" came the angry shouts of Kreacher, only barely heard above Mrs Black's raucous.

There was a loud muffled shout, a bang, and suddenly the upstairs became very quiet.

"What ees 'appening up zer?" asked Fluer, marching out of the kitchen.

A bemused Harry followed and reached where the portrait was just as Kreacher ran past, sobbing and crying.

"Filthy creatures – how d-dare they! My prettyful Mistress!" and he disappeared out of sight.

Sirius' mother's portrait was in a bit of a mess. Tonks – or Lupin – had clearly lost their temper and blown a hole right in the middle and through the wall. Mrs Black had clearly fled the scene, no doubt in a portrait elsewhere in the house.

"Sorry, I got carried away," said Tonks, rubbing the back of her neck.

"No loss," said Harry, trying to keep a smile from his face.

"This won't bode well with the house…" murmured Mrs Weasley, her face pale.

"The house?"

"Oh yes, its got plenty of spells that would be set off if the portrait were to be damaged…"

"Now we don't know that for sure, Molly," said Mr Weasley, coming up the stairs with Bill and Kingsley.

"Well you just wait and see! I've seen things in this house while cleaning that you wouldn't have even seen at work!" exclaimed Mrs Weasley, her cheeks reddening. She then went back to the kitchen to prepare their lunch. Ron muttered something that sounded distinctly like 'paranoid' and Hermione came to the scene.

"What's happened here?"

"I rather lost my temper…" said Tonks, blushing apologetically.

"Oh dear," said Hermione, gazing at the foot long hole that was still smoking.

"It's only a portrait. Mrs Black will be somewhere else in the house, ready to scream her head off," muttered Ron darkly. "Most likely that one in _our _room, Harry."

"I wouldn't mind blowing that one up," he said, smirking. Ron laughed, causing Hermione to scowl disapprovingly, which just made Ron laugh even harder.

"You don't want to be destroying the house from inside out – where else have the Order got to stay?" she snapped.

Ron stopped laughing and covered it up with a cough.

"The Forbidden Forest?" he suggested.

Hermione let out an exasperated sound and went back into her room.

The rest of the Order had gone back downstairs but Harry didn't feel like joining them. He and Ron went into their room, glad to find the portrait empty. Ron kicked a rolled up pair of socks across the room in a bored fashion.

"I wanna get out of this house and do something worthwhile and helpful," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"At least you've been out a few times," replied Harry, lying back on his bed. On the bedpost next to his head and near the window dangled two necklaces. One was adorned with a key, of which Roxanne had the one with the lock. They were charmed so the two could communicate through them, but either the charm had worn off or Roxanne didn't have hers with her, because Harry had tried countless times with no luck. The second necklace was a locket, in which there was a note from R.A.B, whoever he was. The locket was supposed to have been a horcrux, but had been a fake…

"I guess, but we were constantly surrounded by Aurors or Hagrid, and no offence to Hagrid, but he's a bit…embarrassing," said Ron, sitting at the end of his bed.

"Must'a been, with all those girls chasing after you," said Harry, grinning up at his friend.

Ron grinned and his ears went red. "Yeah well, I didn't ask them to follow or nothin'."

Harry smirked and rolled over on his side so he was looking out of the window, which showed the side of the block of flats next to them. Though Harry had only woken up two hours ago, he already felt tired. For the past three weeks of holiday he hadn't been doing a lot and it made him constantly lazy and sluggish. From behind him, Ron sighed, and the creaking of his bed told him he was also lying down on it.

"I just wanna talk to her once, you know? Just to make sure she's ok…" said Harry, flicking the gold necklace with his fingers.

"She _is_ ok, he can't…he can't harm her," replied Ron, breathing deeply.

"I know I always seem like I'm trying to control her, but it's not like that. She's so easily persuaded and… well to be honest, she's quite gullible. If Voldemort were to lie to her about something, I'd bet she'd risk believing it so as not to get anyone around her hurt."

"I get ya, mate. Just trying to protect her-"

"Not that she does need protecting, she can stick up for herself," cut in Harry, "but she's been known to just give in to things." Like last year when she was being bullied, instead of fighting back she just let them taunt her. And during the fight against Slytherin, Harry had been told she couldn't take it and instead of trying to help, she had just fallen to the ground.

"She could just cave in and let it happen-"

"She's a good actor, she'll most likely pretend to go along with it…" said Ron, trying to reassure his friend.

"Maybe," replied Harry, and then they were silent. A few minutes later, loud snores told him Ron had fallen asleep. Harry soon drifted off.


	3. Eye for an eye, drink for a drink

**Chapter 3 **

**Eye for an eye, drink for a drink**

The fire turned a hazy green in the room and Roxanne clutched the knife tighter, so the handle dug into her palm. The fireplace was tall enough for a child to stand in it, but the man that stepped out of the flames had to duck, while holding a heavy tray. He had whispery dark brown hair that was swept back and he was very tall. Sharp features seemed to curl around large grey eyes.

"Goodmorning Roxanne," said Blaise Zabini, and he placed the silver tray on the ground in front of her. It made a clattering sound on the wooden floor and she could see it was quite full, as usual. But as usual, most of it would be thrown on the fire.

Roxanne acted as though no one was in the room, her head hung low, staring between Blaise's legs at the flickering flames.

"The Dark Lord said I was allowed to drink from you again," said Blaise, ducking down to look at Roxanne's face, but still she paid no attention, she barely even blinked.

Zabini frowned and grabbed the pillow away from her, revealing the silver knife in her hand. He stared at it but before he could react, Roxanne jumped at him and with all the force she could muster, wrenched up his black shirt and dug the knife into his bare stomach. He cried and stumbled backwards, clutching his side. Just as he was about to wrench the knife out of his flesh, Roxanne came at him again and pushed him so he fell backwards into the flames, and he was quickly engulfed.

Panting, with her eyes wide and hands splattered with blood, Roxanne fell back onto her bed, looking at the screaming body of Blaise Zabini. He writhed and squirmed until he rolled out of the fireplace, extinguishing the flames on the carpet, and lay there still, facing Roxanne. His gray eyes were wide open and staring at nothing.

Roxanne fought to catch her breath back, if she hadn't been so sleep deprived she would have broken down, but her mind was on auto-pilot, and she had _succeeded_. Never again would he feed from her like he had done last week. Her hand automatically went to her wrist, where two small cuts could be seen, red and sore. She had to act quickly; _they _would realize Zabini wasn't back. Vigilantly, Roxanne kneeled down beside the smoldering body and searched the inner pockets of his shirt for the Floo Powder, hoping it hadn't gotten burnt. Most of his shirt fell away at her hands so she began looking in the pockets of his black trousers. The smell of burnt clothes, hair and flesh was disgusting, but Roxanne was desperate to get out of the room. Her hands fumbled in pockets clumsily but it wasn't long until she found a small leather bag. She almost laughed with relief until-

"Thought it'd be that easy, did you?"

Roxanne screamed and fell back as the head of Blaise Zabini moved to look at her. Even as she stared in horror, the hair on his head began to grow back and the burnt skin was replaced with a new clean layer. Roxanne crawled to the fireplace and threw a handful of Floo Powder in the fire. It roared emerald flames but before she could step in, a hand grabbed her ankle. With strength rivaling that of Hagrid's, she was pulled away from the flames, which were to be her only way out.

"You'll have to do better than cutlery and flames," said Zabini, with a snarl in his voice. She kicked her leg at him but he grabbed that one as well, and pulled her over away from the fire, so her gray dress was pulled up around her waist, showing gray pajama trousers. She scrambled to stop it from going higher, grazing her elbows on the rough floor. Zabini pulled her against the wall like she was a ragdoll.

"D-don't!" she cried, angry tears pouring down her face, which hadn't seen water for days.

He ignored her and put her in the same position he had exactly one week ago. One hand went for her neck and pinned her against the wall, causing her to choke, while he knelt on her legs so she couldn't kick.

"D-don't, please!" she begged, punching at him with her free hand, for he held the other.

And still he ignored her, a hungry ignorance taking over him, and his face transformed. His skin became gray and leather-like, his brow bulged slightly and the skin around his eyes darkened. He pulled her wrist to his mouth, which was also bulging slightly, and opened it. Four sharp teeth glinted in the dull light, two at the top and two at the bottom.

Roxanne uttered a choking scream and she writhed and struggled, still hitting him with her free hand. Though she had seen this face a few days ago, it still sent fear racking through her body. With sudden speed, Zabini bit her wrist and began sucking the blood that poured out. He had not hit the major artery, but so much was dribbling from the two wounds that it dripped down his chin and onto the wooden floor. Her hand that was beating him fell limp by Roxanne's side and his grip relaxed on her neck, as he sank deeper into the lust of drinking fresh blood.

But Roxanne had put so much effort into planning today's escape, she couldn't let him win. _Three weeks _she had spent in this room, given food every two days that was plentiful, but she barely ate any of it. Since Zabini last fed from her she had been planning this escape, knowing full well that a weakness of vampires' was silver and fire. She hadn't known whether the knife was silver or not, but clearly it hadn't been.

With newfound strength and determination, Roxanne wrenched his hand away from her throat and punched him full on in the face. She had been surprised at her own strength, especially when he lifted his head and she had clearly really damaged his nose.

"Now that was uncalled for," he said with a hissing lisp, due to the bulge of his mouth. With the same inhuman speed, he lunged at Roxanne and sank his teeth around her mouth. She hit out but he held both of her arms down, and she could feel her own blood trickling down her throat, along with some of his own cold blood from his nose. She choked and lurched involuntarily. He sucked on the blood that was trickling from around her mouth and then he bit her tongue, but she bit back, harder. He growled in pain and lifted his head back, his nose and mouth area covered in both their blood. He was looking at Roxanne with an unreadable expression on his face, which was slowly turning back into his usual features.

Roxanne coughed and heaved, though she did not throw up. Zabini stood up and wiped his lower face with his sleeve.

"You put up quite a fight, but you'll regret that," he said, still giving her a strange look that she could not distinguish.

"You may as well finish me off!" she shouted, though it was muffled by sobs of pain.

"I don't need as much blood as a fully-fledged vampire," said Zabini, walking over to the fireplace. He picked up the leather pouch and threw the last of the Floo Powder into the fire. "Enjoy your food, while you like that kind. _Kitchen!_" And he was engulfed by green flames, leaving Roxanne lying on the cold ground, furiously wrapping cloth around her bleeding wrist.

She coughed and heaved again, swallowing back the sour taste of bile. With the fabric she had ripped from the bottom part of her dress, she wiped at her mouth, only to rub away the clotting blood and cause the holes to bleed again.

She leant back against the wall, crying, utterly defeated. The room swirled around her so she shut her eyes, so as not to throw up.

"Where are you?" she asked, talking to no one in the room. Then she fainted.

"We've had this discussion before, Harry. It's almost impossible to find out where she is because You-Know-Who could have taken her to anywhere on the planet," said Mr Weasley, in a relatively calm voice.

"She's been trapped there for over a month! It just seems stupid that I'm not allowed to help look for her," he said, throwing his fork down moodily.

Mr Weasley didn't reply but went back to his paper, rustling it unnecessarily loud. Or maybe it was just because the kitchen was strangely empty and quiet. Bill and Fluer were still on their honeymoon in San Francisco and Hermione was with her parents in France. The holiday had been delayed for three weeks but it was clear that she was glad she could go. Harry wished _he_ could get away from the wizarding world for a month. He was glad, however, that tomorrow he'd be allowed to use magic. His 17th birthday was in exactly one hour and he was planning to stay up. Partly because he couldn't sleep, but he also wanted to try out his freedom around the house.

He stood up and placed his plate and fork in the sink, before going to the sitting room where all the comfy chairs were. The huge Family Tree glowed in the darkness before the lights automatically came on. Harry automatically went over to it and he found Roxanne's name instantly. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but the crown over her name seemed to be glowing more than usual, as was the one over Malfoy's. He picked at the silver threading angrily. He was one person that right now he actually hated more than Voldemort. It was selfish of him, but that didn't stop him feeling how he did.

He would have to go back to school without Roxanne and then get people pestering him, asking whether they found her yet or maybe she left on her own accord. Harry had already thought about this. What if she _did _leave by herself? What if this was some plan she had brewing in her mind to help Harry defeat Voldemort from the inside? Or even worse, what if she had joined _him_? Perhaps she was on his side all this time and she had only gone to Hogwarts to ease information out of people who trusted her…

Harry shook his head and quickly stood up, getting those thoughts out of his mind. He knew for a fact that _that _one, at least, wasn't true.

The morning after Roxanne had suffered under the hands of Blaise Zabini, she woke up with a strange feeling in her forehead and stomach. It was something she had never felt before, but it made her want to vomit and eat something at the same time. She sat up and found it hard to move her lips as they were caked with dry blood. The sensation in her brow and tummy writhed and squirmed and seemed to take over organs and limbs closest. The slight light from the window caused her to blink and her eyes to water. The tray of food near her feet had a glass of water on it, which she used to wipe the blood off her wrist and face. The food looked unappetizing except for a side portion of ham, which she ate with haste.

Exhaustion took over her body and she crawled back under her covers, nearly instantly falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

The next morning she slept on, and through that day. The next day she did not move and the next she only turned over. For three weeks she went on like this, in a deep slumber of which she looked like she would never wake. But finally, a fresh scent wafted in and woke her.

Roxanne opened her eyes to find Blaise Zabini crouched beside her bed, a grin on his thin lips.

"Hungry?" he asked, and held up a beaker.

Roxanne groaned and shifted her weight, feeling her muscles strain and some bones crack due to staying in the same place for days upon days.

Zabini smiled and placed the beaker to her lips.

"Don't worry, I went through exactly the same thing," he said, tipping the cup. But she wasn't listening. She drank the slightly warm liquid with delicious gusto and when it was gone she snatched the beaker from his hands and began licking the rim.

"You won't feel yourself for a while, but eventually you'll win and be able to take control," continued Zabini in a slightly bored fashion.

Having licked and scraped the beaker dry, she let it fall to the ground.

"Win what?"

Blaise chortled and sat on the bed near her knees. "You have no idea what's happening do you?" Roxanne stared at him blankly, and absentmindedly licked her lips. "Don't you wonder why you slept for three weeks?"

"I did _what_?" she asked, sucking her fingers now.

"Hmm, I received a severe punishment as well. No food for the length of time you slept. The Dark Lord wasn't planning on this to happen, and he blamed me, naturally. It _was _my fault. Lost the fight."

"What are you on about?" snapped Roxanne, annoyed with his riddles.

"It does make you stronger though. There are more bonuses than drawbacks. Roxanne, do you know how someone becomes a vampire?" he asked, leaning back on her upright knees and staring at her.

She opened her mouth to reply with a smart retort but instead she shook her head dumbly.

He scoffed, "Hogwarts never fills you in with the vital information. A person has to drink the blood from a vampire. The change usually takes about a month, but most sleep during it."

Roxanne's eyes widened and she began shaking her head in disbelief.

"No – that's impossible-"

"I did tell you that you'd regret attacking me," he said, smirking. "But at least you're not a fully-fledged vampire, just a…well less than a halfling. You see, when I was bitten, the vampire had already fed and so his blood was a mixture of his own and this other mortals-"

"You're lying, I don't – you – you're lying!" she cried. Her hands flew to either side of her head and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"You just drank a pint of blood, is that enough proof?" he snapped.

Roxanne's eyes flashed open and she uttered a deep throaty growl, which was meant to frighten Zabini, but he laughed.

"You'll be fighting with the beast inside you for a while, but because you're more human, you'll be able to control it. Count yourself lucky."

"Lucky?"

"And you have me to help you, since I know what its like," he added, a malicious smile playing on his lips.

Roxanne pushed herself in an upright position and threw her hands at his neck, bearing her teeth. In one quick movement, Zabini pushed her back to her pillows and held her down by her throat so she spluttered.

"Don't even try, I'm stronger than you'll ever be," he said, moving nearer to her so their noses almost touched. His nostrils flared and she could feel his breath wash over her face. "One thing you have to keep in mind is to never drink too much blood. Our system can't take it and it'll kill you. You'll have urges now, you'll be able to smell the flow of life source through other people and you'll want to bite them, but you'll have to control yourself. Got that?"

She shook her head from side to side violently and he squeezed tighter.

"_Got_ that?" he repeated, putting his face even closer. She snapped her jaws at him like an angered animal. Zabini grinned and his gazed wandered over her raised lips and bared teeth. "Shame you're Malfoy's, I've always wanted a vampiric partner."

"Malfoy's?" she spat, and her hand flew to Blaise's own neck. He wrenched it off effortlessly and held it by the side of her head, pressing her hair 'till it hurt.

"Yes, Malfoy's. You're not to be touched until he's out. You have to be…" his gaze went down her body and then back up to her eyes, she felt like she was being x-rayed. "_Innocent_."

"What?"

"Not too bright at the moment, are you?" he said, laughing breathily. "For the prophecy to properly be fulfilled, you have to remain a virgin until you _and_ Malfoy are seventeen. Both of you do, actually. Imagine being a seventeen year old virgin?" he added, more to himself than anyone. "I lost mine at fifteen…"

"So, if I wasn't a virgin, the prophecy wouldn't come true?" she asked, suddenly calmed. Something was brewing in her mind, something that would _surely _get her out of here and ruin Voldemort's plans.

"Something like that-"

"I heard different," she cut in suddenly, and he frowned at her.

"Oh?"

"I was told by my _own _parents that if I was a virgin, it would go wrong," she garbled, choosing her words carefully.

"That doesn't make a lot of sense-"

"Something to do with innocence ruining the…the, um…"

"Your fate?" he finished, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes! That's it," she said, nodding.

"No, I swear it was the other way round-"

"I think I would know!" she said, her voice high. She was grabbing at loose strings here. "Either way, it's ruined."

"Why?" he asked, snapping his gaze back to her emerald eyes.

"Because I'm n-not a virgin," she said, trying to put on a proud voice.

Blaise looked momentarily surprised. "Really? But the Dark Lord said-"

"He was wrong, wasn't he?"

"I should inform him," said Blaise, and he made to get up, but Roxanne grabbed his forearm.

"Y-you don't have to go _just _yet," she said in a whispery pleading voice.

"No he has to know – if I were to keep this from him…"

"Its too late now," she said urgently, pulling him back. With strength she never knew she had, she pulled his head closer and kissed him firmly on the lips.

Blaise pulled away and smirked, a sort of dominant expression taking over his handsome and pale features. He moved his body on top of Roxanne, the duvet the only thing between them. He kissed her again, placing his hand on her neck, which soon traveled lower under the covers.

Roxanne drew in a sudden gasping breath and she pushed him off her.

"I can't do this…not to Harry," she whispered, her eyes wet with tears. No matter how desperate she was, she couldn't carry out what was in her mind. Even if it would guarantee her safety, betraying Harry was something she couldn't do. Again.

Zabini stood up angrily and left without another word.

And so she didn't see him for another two weeks, and by then, a pounding continual sadness beat against her heart and her very being as she imagined students of Hogwarts buying their equipment and boarding the Hogwarts Express to look forward to a year at school. Pessimism had taken over her once hoping frame of mind and she was convinced she would never see that school again. She had lost track of the date, even the time, as there was no clock and the window only gave away the bear minimum to tell her whether it were night or day, but even then it could be a bright night or a dull day. Hours crept by but for all she knew they could be minutes, seconds even.

She barely left the comfort of her bed and even the strangers who delivered her food often spoke her name or tousled her duvet to make sure she wasn't dead. Like Zabini had said, she felt like she was battling another person inside her mind and body. It was the kind of person who loved to be hated and enjoyed seeing others in peril. Every time someone came through the fireplace, Roxanne had to fight to stop this being from launching itself at the victim's neck. Not that the creature wanted to feed, she had sufficient undercooked meat and cups of what Roxanne was guessing to be cow's blood, but to hurt and cause pain. Roxanne had decided that this was not a part of her, but a whole different person. It was easier to accept. Whenever she dreamt of ripping people's throats out, she blamed this other person inside her, this other characters, the evil twin. Once, a few days after Zabini's last visit, the creature had emerged and taken Roxanne prisoner, instead of the other way round. It was like she was observing a movie, watching a character wreak havoc and yet she couldn't prevent it, only shout and warn.

This monster had clearly been horrified to find she was stuck in rather a small room for two people, even if they were in one body. She had flung herself at the chest of drawers and knocked it over, threw the carpet into the fire and tried to smash the windows. Eventually tiring herself out, she had sat on the other side of the room (for she disliked the fire) and had actually began to listen to Roxanne, who was screaming inside her head.

"Wait until your boyfriend finds out you're schizophrenic," the creature had said out loud, using Roxanne's voice but it was deeper and coarser, as if she had a sore throat. But it hadn't been an angry taut, more like a simple comment.

_Zabini's not schizophrenic- _Roxanne had thought in a confused tone, deciding she had finally gone mad in here.

"His position is different. I don't suppose you've been noticing what's in that pathetic excuse for blood you've been drinking?" the creature had asked.

…_It's cow's blood-_

"They seemed to have forgotten how keen a vampire's sense of smell and taste is. Not that I know a lot about spells and charms, for I only have your insufficient knowledge, but its some sort of personality-altering concoction-"

_Impossible!_

"This is the Dark Lord we are talking about," the being had replied, with a sort of dense proudness in her thick voice. "He doesn't use magic, he _manipulates _it."

_Why would he want to change who I am? _

"You're not co-operating. It would be something simple, just a mental persuasion of which you' be oblivious to. But clearly it was meant for a normal mortal-"

_I don't understand!_

"Let me continue then!" the being had snapped, "it was meant for someone who was _not_ part vampire. It seems your human side and immortal side have split into two different people, creating me."

A silence had followed, of which Roxanne was trying to sieve this information through her tired brain.

"No doubt in knowing which one of us is the smartest."

_It isn't schizophrenia._

"Then what?"

_I don't know, multiple personality disorder perhaps-_

"Whatever you wish to call it, its incurable. Don't touch anything they give you, drink from yourself if you get desperate."

The being had then disappeared, perhaps gone to sleep as the dull light in the window informed Roxanne the sun was rising, and she now had full control of her body. She was rather shook by the whole ordeal of talking to herself, and yet not even verbally. This person shared her body, and yet was thought differently from her, used Roxanne's knowledge in another way, which did in fact seem wiser and older. Roxanne often wondered if she had a name, or if she was even a she, but she also refused to let her out. She was determined to grow stronger in controlling this other person and promised the being that when she had, she'd let her out. Perhaps this other stronger being might even help her in escaping.

Strangely enough, Roxanne could not communicate with the other creature like she had talked to Roxanne. But one name sprang to mind which she surmised was _her _name; Tambrey.

The name was so familiar, like it was Roxanne's nickname. And she knew if someone were to call it out in a crowd, she would turn around and shout back, "Yes?" It was a strange, but a somewhat comforting thought. She was not alone in this room, physically yes, but not in any other means.


	4. Its Shopping Time Again

**Chapter 4 **

**Its Shopping Time Again**

For the second year running, Harry and the Weasleys' had left the school-shopping trip to Diagon Alley a little late. They had three days to go and Harry and Ron needed new school robes and new dress robes for the leaving Prom, (something they were all lamenting). No doubt this year was going to be twice as stressful and perhaps even more so since the ever-dawning comprehension that they could be attacked at any time never left them, _and_ one of their friends were missing. Or perhaps missing wasn't the correct word.

"I think this is beyond paranoia," stated Hermione in a hushed voice, once they had arrived in the streets of the once lively Diagon Alley.

A large selection of the shops were boarded up, including Ollivanders and Madam Malkins. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream stall was missing and by the look on everyone's faces, they all felt a pang of misery and despair, for they had known the jolly man well. In front of some big shops, when you looked at them from the corner of your eye, an opal glimmer shimmered across the whole front. But once you moved, it disappeared. Harry surmised these were some kind of barriers, but why people would think Death Eaters would enter Diagon Alley was beyond him.

The street wasn't exactly empty; it just seemed so because there was less chat, less bubble and less laughter. Even toddlers gripping their mother's hands didn't point at the black cat that scooted in front of their path or the flapping birds in the window of the The Magical MenagerieThey saw Lavender Brown with her parents and they waved half-heartedly at her. She stared at them wide-eyed for a few seconds, but then waved back, before disappearing into a bookshop.

"Its just being safe, Hermione," Mrs Weasley said.

"No, I mean the spells that are covering the street," said Hermione. She pointed at the floor. "Do they really expect Death Eaters to come to the most busiest street in London?"

Mrs Weasley uttered a soft gasp and hurried her pace. Harry followed Hermione's gaze to the ground and only saw what she was on about when he placed his palm on it. The slabs of pavement were warm and slightly pulsating.

"It'll be a charm that would trigger an alarm if anyone were to land bearing the Dark Mark," said Hermione, taking her hand off the pavement with a sort of nervous twitch.

"They can do that?" said Ron, frowning. "Why don't they just put it everywhere?"

"It's only in the middle of the street, that's why some of the shops have their own protection. They couldn't put it everywhere; it's a hard and powerful charm."

Ron was about to reply when a flashing sign caught their eye. It was on the window of the twin's shop.

**If Death Eaters bother you**

**Then you should be warned about…**

**MOTH BALL EATERS**

**The savage creatures that chew moth balls**

**So moths can chew your clothes!**

**Moth Ball Eaters repellent half price**

The words rippled orange and yellow and seemed to be the only brightness in the whole street. Harry laughed, joining in with most of the people around him, but the sign received scowls from Hermione and Mrs Weasley.

"Its not as bad as the other sign, I guess," stated Mrs Weasley in a defeated voice.

Inside, the shop was clearly the busiest in the street.

"Ah, our family and friends, so glad you paid us a visit!" said Fred, beaming at them.

Harry grinned at him. "Business still as good?"

"Yeah – even better actually, which was a surprise to us. We've breached out into more Self Defense gear, the ministry love us!" said Fred, slapping his hands together happily.

"And you're being careful about who you sell this stuff to?" asked Ron, narrowing his eyes at them.

The smile disappeared from Fred's face and he nodded glumly.

"We've got charms in front of the shop and everything. We've warned the staff to tell us if they see anyone fishy…" Fred trailed off, shaking his head sadly. "I can't help but blame myself for that thing at Hogwarts. I sold it to him, that bastard."

Mrs Weasley glared at him but did not say anything.

"It wasn't your fault," said Hermione. "Who knew Malfoy was going to do that?"

A few customers glanced over at her warily and she stopped talking.

"Yeah well, thanks to him we've lost a few customers," said Fred darkly, and he went over to serve someone who was carrying a large amount of fireworks.

Hermione went with Ginny to the hair products while Harry and Ron looked at the self-defense items on offer.

"Imagine how many N.E.W.Ts they would have received if they'd stayed on?" whispered Ron, staring at a pair of glasses that permit the wearer to see in the dark and use them like binoculars.

"They're doing better without them," muttered Harry. He couldn't help but be jealous. N.E.W.Ts were something that would determine whether he got a good job or not, but he'd prefer spending the year helping to look for Roxanne. It seemed unfair that the Weasley twins were allowed to skip them _and _become rich businessmen. But he _had _given them the money, so to avoid sounding hypocritical, he kept his mouth shut. But from the disgusted look on Ron's face as he studied a ring that projected a see-through barrier around an object for ten minutes, he was thinking the same thing.

"They might be good with spells and charms, but they haven't got a lot of common sense. I mean, would _you _sell that stuff to Malfoy?" said Ron, with a certain glint in his eye.

"No, but then again, I know what he's like," said Harry. "It would have happened without Instant Darkness Powderbut maybe there wouldn't have been so many casualties."

This hushed the conversation and they moved over to Mr Weasley, who had just asked where George is.

"Taking the afternoon off, he's upstairs snoring. He's been a bit under the weather."

Mrs Weasley asked to see him and so everyone went back to looking at items until she returned. They made their way out of the shop, waving goodbye to Fred, who seemed to a have cheered up when Ginny bought a large selection of conditioning balms. Since Madam Malkins was closed, they went to Seamless, a rather fashionable robe shop that was a tad bit too expensive for the Weasleys' liking.

"I'm not going to a second hand shop, mum. It's my last year and I want to keep whatever dignity I have left," Ron said, and he strode in.

An attractive young witch with her permed hair in a high ponytail came over, her palms clasped in front of her.

"What can I do for you?" she said brightly.

"These three need school robes and dress robes for the Prom," said Mrs Weasley. They were taken to the changing rooms and Mrs Weasley sat down on the chair, looking exhausted.

Harry, Hermione and Ron were sized and probed and poked until the lady disappeared and came back with three school robes. Harry was surprised at how well they fitted and couldn't help but admire Hermione's, which seemed to cling to her figure rather nicely. Mrs Weasley eyed the well-made robes with a look of despair.

"What colour would you pref-"

The woman stopped mid sentence and about a foot away from Harry's face. She seemed to have realised who he was.

"Black? Or navy," said Harry, relenting the stare from her.

"Uh – oh! But what about green? Its nice to have a colour that matches your eyes," she gushed, beaming at him.

"I could try that too…"

"I'll bring a selection down!" she said happily. "And you two?"

Ron glanced at his mother and ran a hand through his hair, which had grown quite a lot during the summer.

"A treat dear, your older brothers had new dress robes for their Prom," said Mrs Weasley. "And anyway, with your father new raise, it's not problem."

She smiled at him and Harry just noticed Mr Weasley's absence.

"Black for me," Ron said to the woman.

"Mind if I take a colour sample from your hair?" asked the woman suddenly. She received a queer look so she carried on. With her wand she flicked at a piece of Ron's hair, when she moved her wand away, a trickle of reddish ginger trailed after it and hung there like a piece of ribbon. She then looked at Hermione questioningly.

"I was thinking a pale blue or-"

"With dark blue, perfect."

The woman then disappeared again, the red strand following her. Ron rubbed his head, a little bemused and they waited.

"I wonder what the price will be," whispered Hermione, just as the woman returned. But she let out a soft gasp of awe as the saleswoman produced a navy flowing dress that seemed to ripple and shudder to the touch. From the bodice flowed Celtic spirals of light turquoise and sky blue and as it was held up against Hermione, it seemed to cling to her.

"Our dresses are made of the finest quality and each have their own personality. People usually buy a dress from Seamless and return to have it altered slightly for another occasion, because you'll find you'll become quite attached to yours!" said the woman brightly. Harry felt like he was in a TV advert.

"Oh it's beautiful…" said Hermione in a hushed voice. She went to the changing room, seemingly unable to take her eyes off the dress.

"And yours sir." She handed Ron a black robe with thick red stitching that matched his hair. Ron took it curiously while she beamed at him.

"And Mr. Potter, I brought you two," she said, holding out two separate robes. One was black with green stitching and an emerald collar while the other was the same, except navy with black stitching. "Personally I think the black…"

Harry nodded and went into the changing room, which he found too big for the mere operation of changing clothes. Just as he was pulling it on he heard Mrs Weasley cheer.

"Oh Hermione, you look like a model!"

He heard Hermione's giggles and rushed in putting on the robe to see her before she changed again.

He emerged to see Ron staring at her with glossy eyes.

"Wow 'Mione, you look…"

Hermione's cheeks reddened. She certainly looked beautiful in the dress, which just about covered her bare feet.

"Oh that suits you, Harry."

Harry blinked and looked down at himself. In his rush he hadn't looked in the mirror. Mrs Weasley uttered her verbal agreement. Harry shrugged slightly; he wasn't bothered about what he wore. If Roxanne wasn't found before the Prom, he wasn't going to attend. He couldn't bare going through such an important event in his life without her, it just didn't seem fair.

Hermione put a consoling hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe I shouldn't buy it."

"Oh don't be such a pessimist, Harry. She'll be back way before then, I'm sure of it," said Hermione, grabbing him in a tight hug.

They bought the expensive clothes and left to go to Flourish & Blotts Bookstore. Harry felt his money pocket lighten immensely as they left with handfuls of heavy books.

"What about Roxanne's?" he said coarsely.

Mr Weasley, who they had met in Flourish & Blotts Bookstorewinced slightly.

"The school will provide her with them when she returns," he said, his voice sounding hollow.

_If _she returns, Harry couldn't help but think glumly.

The two Aurors who were accompanying them spoke for the first time that day and informed them they only had less than an hour left. They went from shop to shop in a rushed manor and then took a portkey home with the Ministry's permission, since all Floo Networks had stopped and Portkey usage was banned unless with permission.

Shaking the soot from his already dark hair, Harry went upstairs and began looking at his new books. Even Ron sat on his bed, peering at the large textbooks.

"We're in for a rough year," he said, as if Harry didn't already know.

Harry suspected it would be even harder for Hermione, who had been appointed Head Girl, along with ErnieMacmillanas Head Boy.


End file.
